Why do I enjoy loneliness so much? I asked myself as I wandered the empty sidewalks of the old side of town. I am a very philosophical person. I kicked a piece of concrete that had dislodged itself from the stone wall I was following. With a honk and a rumble, a moving truck speeds past me on the abandoned road. Just ignore it I tell myself. Some odd force draws me to the path of the truck.
I followed the truck to a house in a newer neighborhood several blocks down. A teenage boy climbs out of the truck first followed by who I presume to be mom and dad.
"Did you follow us?" The boy questions.
"Nice introduction." I sneer sarcastically." And no I didn't follow you, a couple of my friends live in this neighborhood."
"Sorry, my name is Tyler." He apologized embarrassed.
"Hooper, Jane Hooper, and is that a Mississippi accent I hear?"
"Yeah, it is."
"My dad is from Louisiana." I say brushing a wisp of my brown hair behind my ear. "Want a tour?" I ask
"Sure." He replied eagerly.
As we strolled around the neighborhood, I was sure of 3 things
1) He like me
2) He was a nice guy
3) My friends will hate him
YOU ARE READING
The Southern Boy
RandomThis is the story of a disrespected girl and a gentleman-like Mississippi boy, who unexpectedly meet and grow increasingly fond of each other
